“Yes, to talk to, perhaps ... but tha all.”
“And so you do want him?... You have thought it over well? Let me know at least....”
“You know since I told you.... I do want him.”
She grabbed her fathe hand and tenderly bent towards him, offering her cheek.
M. Raindal kissed her and grunted:
“As you like. I have no right to compel you.”
Then cunningly, to make sure, he added, without releasing her hand:
“To be sure, he is not such a good-looking man as the other one.”
He paused, feeling the contraction in his daughte hand.
“Yes, the other one.... Your dancer.... What was his name?... This M. de Meuze....”